


Vanilla & Sweat.

by doctorkaitlyn



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, One Shot, Sequel, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-18 19:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glenn's shampoo stash turns out to be useful for other things as well. Sequel to Occam's Razor, but can be read as a standalone. PWP, basically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vanilla & Sweat.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted on ff.net in November of 2011. Technically, this is a sequel to Occam's Razor but it can certainly be read as a standalone, since it is pretty well porn. And that's it. xo.

Daryl Dixon couldn't sleep. It wasn't like lack of sleep was a new issue; he'd never really done a lot of sleeping, even before the world had gone tits up. It just wasn't an activity that he considered important, something that could easily take a back step to work or hunting or whatever, really.

But this wasn't a case of not wanting to or being too distracted to sleep. The truth was that he simply _couldn't_ ; his mind was too busy churning and turning, twisting itself into rather tantalizing mental images involving the Korean man who was passed out beside him, breathing slowly and heavily against Daryl's bare chest. No matter how he initially fell asleep, the kid always ended up curled into him, practically kissing his skin, holding him tightly like he was afraid Daryl was going to up and leave him in the middle of the night.

Daryl didn't mind the clinginess; to be honest, he rather enjoyed the view it offered him. If the moon happened to be up, he could use its light to take in all the features of Glenn's face, from his long thick eyelashes to his full lips, parted just the slightest as he slept, oblivious to Daryl's staring. If he had it his way, the kid would never find out how many nights he'd laid on his side, propped up on his elbow, using his fingers and eyes to catalogue every visible detail on Glenn's body, imprinting them into his brain in case they were ever taken away from him. Usually, after a few minutes of doing this, he would find himself being lulled off to sleep by the kid's peaceful breathing, using it like a lullaby.

But on this particular night, the usual approach wasn't working, due to the fact that it was Glenn himself keeping him awake. Sometime during the night, when Daryl had drifted off into a doze for a few minutes, one of Glenn's hands had latched itself to his hip like a goddamn vice, only gripping tighter when he tried to shift it away. It wasn't that he minded the contact but that was exactly the problem; with every tiny shift, with every press of Glenn's hand against his hip, jolts of arousal would go through his body, settling themselves in his crotch until he was almost painfully hard. Once that happened, he knew he wouldn't get to sleep until the problem was solved. He really didn't want to wake Glenn up; they all needed as much sleep as they could get, after all, but the kid wasn't letting him move even the few inches he needed to take matters into his own hands.

Well, the kid had started it.

Bending his head, Daryl started biting his way up Glenn's neck, nipping his way to the kid's earlobe, which he seized between his teeth and tugged gently. The kid murmured something in his sleep and his grin on Daryl's hip tightened even further, to the point of almost being painful.

"Wake up," Daryl growled in his ear, letting one hand roam down Glenn's arm and chest. He moaned gently and stirred, yawning slightly. Daryl pulled back just far enough to see the kid's face, his long eyelashes brushing against his skin as he slowly blinked sleep away from his eyes. Christ, even just waking up, the kid looked so peaceful, like he didn't have a care in the world. It felt almost like a travesty to so thoroughly corrupt such an innocent face but the fact was, Daryl had never really been one to resist temptation and Glenn was the very definition of the term.

"Daryl, the hell you doing?" he muttered, nuzzling his face into the side of Daryl's neck like he was a goddamn cat or something. As cute as it was, the kid wasn't getting off that easy. Reaching down to where Glenn's hand was still resting on his hip, Daryl moved it to the right, resting on top of the zipper of his pants. It took a few moments for Glenn's still dozing mind to make the connection but eventually his eyes sparked with recognition and he drew just one corner of his bottom lip into his mouth, gnawing on it gently as he pressed down with the palm of his hand.

Now he got it.

Although his movements were still slow, the kid was starting to wake up, his lips pressing at Daryl's throat, his collarbone, anywhere they could reach. His fingers languorously undid the zipper and button of Daryl's jeans, leaving no boundaries between his cool hand and warm flesh. The sudden contact made Daryl press his face into Glenn's vanilla scented hair, the smell a by-product of the kid's shampoo stash. Even as he inhaled deeply, an idea appeared in Daryl's mind, an idea that he simply couldn't shake away.

That shampoo could be useful for something else too.

He honestly didn't know why the kid hadn't brought up using the supplies as a substitute for slick earlier. There was the whole thing about not wanting anyone to find out about his stash, lest he had to share, but Daryl was pretty sure that the shampoo would be a better idea than saliva. Christ, the kid was stubborn.

But now that he knew about it, Daryl figured there wasn't any point in neglecting it. With one quick move, he pinned Glenn underneath him, one hand tearing at the kid's jeans, the other reaching for his backpack. Eventually, after fumbling with the damn zipper on both things, Glenn slapped his hand away and undid his jeans himself, leaving Daryl both hands to get into the backpack and snatch up the first bottle he found. He tucked it beside him before going back to the kid, who was completely awake by now, his hips pressing upwards, searching for friction that Daryl was only too happy to give him. His back was raked by blunt fingernails and he bit down on the first patch of skin his mouth found, drawing a trickle of blood.

"Jesus Christ Daryl," Glenn muttered, pressing his nails even harder into Daryl's back. He had no doubt that if anyone happened to catch a glimpse of him shirtless in the morning, they would think that he'd been mauled by a walker. He growled, pressing his hips down harder, the friction making his brain short circuit for a few seconds. As soon as the kid said his name in that tone, dripping with lust and sheer fucking desire, he was already gone, wrapped around his damn finger. He could only imagine what the others would have thought if they'd known that Daryl Dixon could be turned into putty so easily.

"What do you want?" he asked, his mouth running over the exposed, vulnerable skin of the kid's neck. He could feel his heartbeat underneath his lips, beating so hard that he could imagine it bursting through the skin.

"You." That was as dirty as the kid would get but for Daryl, it was more than enough to make his blood race. More than that, it was the permission he needed to go further. He kicked his jeans off the rest of the way, shoving them into the tangle of blankets before groping for the bottle he'd grabbed. One of Glenn's hands was running down his chest, venturing into dangerous territory and he reluctantly moved it away; if the kid touched him too much, he was almost positive that he was going to finish before he even got started. Popping the cap on the shampoo (or whatever the hell he'd grabbed), he awkwardly coated two of his fingers in the liquid, dripping it onto the blankets as well.

The moan that broke from Glenn's mouth after he pressed one finger into his body was loud enough for him to worry about it catching the attention of whoever the hell was on watch. The last thing Daryl needed was Shane or Rick to wander over and get a goddamn earful; it would have been hilarious but for the sake of the kid's dignity, he decided that he'd just have to muffle the rest of his noises with his lips, absorbing them into his throat. He twisted his wrist experimentally and Glenn's hips pressed down against his hand, accompanied by a series of whimpers and half formed pleas spilling past his lips.

"Jesus, please Daryl, for the love of God, _please_!"

He was going to take that as permission. He quickly slicked himself up, not wanting to wait any longer because he was pretty sure that his head was going to explode. Even as it was, just pushing into Glenn's warm body was enough to make him finish right then and there and wouldn't that have been embarrassing? So he stayed still for a few minutes, trying to calm down, to remember how to breath.

"Daryl, for fucks sake, move."

The kid rarely swore but when he did, it was undoubtedly the hottest thing he'd ever heard, that innocent mouth saying such filthy words. He wanted to hear more, needed to hear more so he did exactly what the kid asked, bucking his hips forward abruptly, making the kid sink his teeth into Daryl's shoulder, failing to completely cover up the moan that spilled from his throat. He was definitely going to have fun explaining that particular bite mark.

"God," he groaned, pressing his face into Glenn's neck, his fingers digging into the kid's hipbones. "So fucking tight, so goddamn warm, just..." He was rapidly losing the ability to speak, even to comprehend, completely overwhelmed by the sheer feeling of the moment. He could feel Glenn's feet digging into his hips, urging him faster and deeper and he was rapidly falling apart, his nerves flaring like damn Christmas lights with every thrust. He was only vaguely aware that he was fumbling with one hand to help the kid along, stroking as best as he could. When he closed his eyes, his vision was still flooded with white light, overtaking all of his senses in one swift explosion. A walker could have been gnawing on him and he wouldn't have known it; he simply couldn't feel anything beyond his muscles spasming.

When he came back down from his high, he was lying beside the kid, his stomach damp with sweat and another substance that he didn't particularly want to think about. Thankfully, the kid took care of that problem for him, wiping both of them off with an already dirty shirt before settling back down, his hair mussed and pointing in every possible direction. The air in the tent was downright stifling but even with that, Daryl could feel his eyes thankfully drifting shut.

"Hey Daryl?" He grunted in response, tugging his pillow so that it was underneath his head.

"It smells like vanilla in here." Using up what little energy he still had, Daryl inhaled deeply and almost immediately started to laugh. Although the strong dual scents of sweat and sex were definitely still there, he could smell sweet vanilla over top. After a few moments, as he sat on the edge of sleep, Daryl realized that it smelled like the kid did all the time; clean and dirty at the same time. It was like he had his nose buried in the kid's hair again, even if he was lying facing the opposite direction. It was... comforting, he decided.

His last thought before he finally got to sleep was that the stash of shampoo was definitely useful in more ways than one.


End file.
